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Above the Clouds
Skycaptain Kytlov stood on the landing pad sipping from his mug, the steam rising, fogging his spectacles slightly. It was a brisk autumn evening; the clouds had come in low just as the Sage had said they would. This was the first time anything like this would be attempted by the Tsardom. Although Kytlov’s airship had been used in the war before and it had the marks to prove it; a volley of Badger rifle fire came much too close for comfort during one engagement. It was chosen due to the quite nature of the engines, no other ship in the aircorp made as little noise as the ‘Angel’s claw’. Kytlov had been at some of the briefings, the ones High Command thought it necessary he be at, but for some it was much too high above his clearance. From what he was told and heard from the chattering they airship would become the key instrument in delivering what could be the most vital assault of the war, putting an end to it before the winter. The Skycaptain’s quiet contemplation of his drink was brought to an end when the hanger doors opened from across the landing pad. Emerging from the light of the interior one by one Beaver soldiers, carrying all manner of equipment, the usual bags and pouches of any Beaver infantryman and of course the short rifles used for close combat but these men also carried parachutes in woven sacks upon their backs. What these men we lacking was any of the normal heavy armour, light helmets and breastplates were supplied for this mission. Kytlov turned away from the approaching Beavers and stepped up into his airship. He took one last sip from his mug before pouring the rest on the ground. The airship had been stripped to make room for the additional troops that would be on board. As he looked to the rear of the ship he noticed the opening where the rear cannon usually sat, removed to allow the men to exit the ship with their equipment. The engines shuttered into action, the cool night air had made them stick a bit, and it took the captain a few tries to get them running at full power. By now the Beavers were all in the airship, checking their tools and harnesses, ready to set off into the night skies. The airship lifted from Partway Airbase at roughly midnight. Ascending quickly to above cloud level and off they set headed northwest. Partway sat in an unusual location; a great distance from any coast and much closer to New Beardonia than any part of the Tsardom. Still it remained in Beaver control and surprisingly had seen no action in the war. After an hour into the flight the relative silence to the cabin was broken when one Beaver spoke, He was the commanding officer for this mission, old in his years, scarred from previous combat but clearly still strong by the load he carried. “Men we all know what we are about to do. We are striking far behind enemy lines.” The captain turned his head to observe the lieutenant. “We will be dropping from this ship into the countryside by the Northern Badger town of ___, we won’t be seen, and we won’t be heard. If this mission is a success we will cut off the Badger’s main weapons production plant in the Westlands. It will take them at least 2 weeks to gain resupply from their Empire across the sea.” This all sounded quite marvellous to Kytlov, cut off supply lines, win the war before winter. He’d be back to base in time for breakfast. But the beavers behind him wouldn’t, they’d be left there hundreds of miles north of the frontlines, there was no plan to extract them. Provided any survived the assault. “When we have destroyed the manufactorum we will withdraw north to the mountains by the coast.” The lieutenant continued “from there we will have watch over the sea and the land leading to the town, we’ll be able to watch what the Badger’s do during the aftermath.” What hope would 50 men trapped north of civilisation, even Badger territory have without extraction or means to communicate what they saw, this plan was beginning to seem more and more like desperation to the Captain. But as the moonlight bounced off the top of the clouds Kytlov checked his charts and compass, they were almost there. “Twenty minutes to the drop point lieutenant!” He shouted back, the Beaver nodded in response. And with that there was silence in the cabin once more, the beavers turned to face the rear of the ship, each checking the parachute of the Beaver in front of him. Time slowed for the Captain, the clouds slowly tricked by underneath the airship, he noticed in the distant south a glow through the clouds, ‘that must be the town’ he thought to himself as he pulled the long brass lever to slow the ship. As the speed decreased the order was given, Kytlov turned to watch, one by on e the Beavers dropped from the back of the airship and disappeared into the night sky. The captain watched each and every one jump out, wondering if he would ever meet any of them again. Finally the lieutenant turned to Kytlov gave him a respectful nod and he descended to the earth with the rest of his men. That was that, he was alone again. High above the ground in his quietly vibrating airship Kytlov turned the wheel and headed home.